UnderWHERE?

April over at April Showers recently wrote a post about us ladies and our BRAS.  I'll apologize to the guys who read SSG ... in fact go ahead and picture us in the Victoria's Secret matching bra and panty sets that you normally do ... which is TOTALLY what we all wear ALL. THE. TIME.  And scoot on off and watch Sports Center.  Go ahead, this post isn't for you.  

There's nothing to see here, SSG promises.

Bye bye!

Riveting sports analysis calling!

Bad sports puns on the TV right now!

Go on!

Get out of here!

Okay ladies ...

You know the bras I'm REALLY talking about.  Like when you hear the experts on Oprah say bras should only last 6 months if you wear them every OTHER day (?!).  And immediately you think of the bra you currently have on.  The one you wear EVERY day.  The one that you've had for, ahem, a WEE bit longer than 6 months.  The one that's held up by sheer force of will, a couple of safety pins and permanent indentation marks on your shoulders which act like tracks.

We all have them.  And reading about April's bra self destructing off her body and wearing one that squeaks made me CRACK up and remember that I haven't told you about the time I got felt up.  Because of my funktified bra.  By a TSA security agent at the airport.

So there I was ... 

Maid of honor in my sisters wedding.  An up-do bobby pinned and hair sprayed to within an inch of its life.  Professional make up.  Maid of honor dress that did NOT stretch and shoes that felt fine!  For about 30 seconds after I put them on.   

The wedding was beautiful--it was held in an old spanish chapel that was recreated in a museum in Balboa Park, San Diego--or at least I THINK it was beautiful.  I had tears in my eyes the entire ceremony and couldn't wipe them away because I was double fisting bridal bouquets that weighted at LEAST 100 pounds each, all the while pulling a flamingo trying to give each foot a rest for a few seconds at a time.  

The reception was AWESOME.  Especially since I ate three bites of food and drank about 20 lemon drops.  It was an open bar!  I got through my speech!  My sister got married!  Let's party!  Woo hoo!  

My friends who were at the wedding decided it was time to FULLY take advantage of me in my drunken state and drove me to a bar ... AFTER the reception and the 20(ish) lemon drops.  The bar was in Ocean Beach, the flip flop mecca of San Diego.  Jeans, flops and t-shirts are evening attire.  Which is AWESOME.  Except when you're wearing a brides maid dress.  And have an up-do that could rival Audrey Hepburn's in Breakfast at Tiffany's.

I sprinted through the bar, saying to everyone who looked me up and down "I was in a wedding!  Wedding!  Don't normally dress in a shiny, brownish, purplish, polyester blend!  My flip flops and jeans are in my suitcase!  I'm a San Diego native for GAWD sakes, I'm just pale because I live in the Northwest now!  STOP LOOKING AT ME!"  I sat in a corner outside and chain smoked (WHAT?!  It was an EMERGENCY!) with a couple of guys who found me HILARIOUS (which, let's face it SSG thinks she's WAY funny when she drinks).  Though I think the guys secretly liked being around all the ladies that came up to compliment me on my dress, accessories and share their own bridal party horror stories.  And then I drank more lemon drops.  Because ... well, um, yeah.

So the next morning you can probably imagine how great I was feeling.  AND how late I was to catch my flight back to Portland.  I threw on some clothes, smoothed out my hair and took off running to the airport.

Everything was fine.  Until I went through security.  And set the alarms off.

It took me a while to figure out what was wrong since SSG has her airport routine DOWN.  And always wants to punch those people who walk through the metal detector and are like "Oh yeah! $10 of change in my pocket, would you look at THAT!"  And then again "Oh darn it!  Cell phone!"  And then again "Oopsie, my watch!  Wait, what do you mean you can't carry on liquids.  You're not going to throw that away, are you?"  (SSG's head EXPLODES.)  

Wait ... where was I again?

OH YEAH ...

So this time I was the douche setting the metal detector off, wondering WTF?  And that was when I remembered my hair.  And the 1,000 bobby pins that were still in it.  

FFFFFFFFFFF!

I looked at the TSA guy, smiled and pointed to my hair.  "Um, wedding? 1,000 bobby pins?  NO WAY I can get them all out before my flight leaves?"

He laughed and motioned for a female security lady to come over.  Crisis averted, I sighed as she waved her beepy wand (is TOO what they call it) over me.  Sure enough it went crazy as she waved it over my hair.  I giggled.  She didn't. 

Ms. No Nonsense continued to run the wand down the right side of my body.  It beeped again.  I paused for a second wondering if a bobby pin had fallen down my shirt and then realized it was the under wire in mah braw.  No Nonsense didn't seem to think it was anything to worry about and so I waited as she ran it up the left side of my body.

When she got to my left boob, NO BEEP.  She looked puzzled and ran it over my left boob again.  And it still didn't beep.  She ran it over my right boob which DID beep.  WTF?  I started to sweat a little when I realized what was wrong.

"Um, the under wire came out of one side."  I bit my lip, trying not to laugh and wondering HOW ON EARTH they would handle this.  Was I going to show up on the cover of San Diego Union "Possible Terrorist Gets Arrested at Airport for Improper Bra Usage!"

TSA lady looked me in the face and said simply: "Oh honey, I have a DRAWER full of those at home.  Go on and get to your gate now."